Wolfsangel

27

The going was hard down the coast. Vali felt he couldn’t risk stopping at any farmstead or fisherman’s hut in case word went back to Forkbeard of the direction he had taken, so the men slept on beaches or in caves as they hugged the shore south. The advantage of the enduring daylight was that they could rest in shifts, Bragi working the sail for a time, Vali taking over when the warrior became tired. The wolfman could not sail or row, so he just sat, his head on his knees, staring at his feet and looking miserable.

Feileg proved a much better asset on land. He was an accomplished forager, bringing back seabird eggs and bitter plants to chew. So they ate well enough, supplementing the wolfman’s food with seaweed and roots from the surrounding countryside. Water was easy to find; in fact, when it rained they had rather too much of it.

Vali wanted to get on, so he only stretched the sail across the boat as a shelter when the rain was at its heaviest. The rest of the time he just worked the bailing pan as hard as he could. They were frequently soaked but making progress, and that was the important thing.

This was hostile territory but their little fishing boat attracted less notice than a longship. Still, they had to be careful, rounding the lands of the Agder and the Westfold, sprinting across the bright broad bay of Vingulmarken and over to Alvheim.

Then it was threading their way through the islands to Denmark and their destination — the trading town of Haithabyr. This was where the Danes would have taken a slave. They were in constant peril. They had to keep the coast in sight for navigation but this meant they risked being seen. Vali thought it would be a bored king who would launch a drakkar to catch some fishermen, but then again kings did get bored.

The weather was rough at times but they were prepared, beaching the little boat, inverting it to use as a shelter and sitting out the high winds for a few days until the going was safe again. Vali knew that even if Forkbeard had sent a longship after them, he’d be no keener to sail in bad weather. Longships could strike across the open sea but, given the choice, clung to the coast and beached if they saw a storm coming rather than risk swamping.

The boat seemed to crawl through the islands, though they were glad of them, the many coves and inlets providing good beaching and hiding places. And navigation was easy if circuitous at points as Bragi had travelled this way before. Once or twice they had to go west when their destination was south, but it was a small price to pay to avoid the open sea. Much of the journey was rowed, but they were following a trade route so the currents and the winds were favourable. From their final stop on a beach they could see a long promontory, a trail of smoke from a line of campfires stretching along it.

‘Is this the town?’ said Vali. ‘It’s no bigger than Eikund.’

Bragi laughed. ‘That’s just the bjorkey at the mouth. That’s our first problem.’

Vali had never heard the expression before so he asked what a bjorkey was.

‘It’s a collecting point,’ said Bragi. ‘If two big ships want to exchange goods then there’s no point them going all the way into port. They’ll do it at the mouth of the inlet. Also, if a ship is on its way somewhere else it can just pick up or drop what it has to here without wasting time stopping.’

Vali found such haste difficult to believe. Who didn’t have time to stop? What could be so urgent that you had to ply your trade routes as if pursued?

‘Riches,’ said Bragi as if reading his mind. ‘The first sheep at the trough drinks deepest. You don’t want to turn up at a port with a cargo of whetstones if someone else has done the same the day before. These merchants want us to beg for their wares.’

In other circumstances Vali might have found Bragi’s words exciting — a glimpse into a world that he knew nothing about. As it was, they just added to the sense of uncertainty he was feeling — of going into a situation unprepared. The vulnerability he felt did not come from the immediate threat of the Danes. Ever since his time in the mire he had felt fragile, slightly removed from himself, not fully in the present. Still, he couldn’t help wondering what else Bragi knew that he could tell him. Up till now the old man had only ever seemed to want to talk about battles, and Vali had made the mistake of assuming that was all he had to say.

‘Do you want me to pick a few holes in your plan?’ said Bragi as they got back into the boat and prepared to go across.

‘Go on.’

‘Well, we have stolen clothes of the Rygir nobility. The Danes have just attacked the Rygir and therefore could be considered to be at war with them. Haithabyr is in Denmark, which — the last time I checked — was full of Danes. Now I’m not a deep thinker like yourself but it strikes me that, should we turn up as we are, then we may as well put on the manacles ourselves, to save everybody the bother of a struggle. Do you see what I mean?’

‘There are problems with what I’m proposing to do,’ said Vali, ‘but I don’t think we’ll have any trouble. They have quite a few separate kingdoms. We’ll be all right as long as Haarik isn’t there.’

‘If he is?’

Vali shrugged. The wolfman said nothing, just sat staring at the sea as if he hated it.

Bragi said, ‘Well, assuming we get past the being-cut-down-where-we-stand part, what then? They’ll know that they can hold us for ransom or enslave us — both meaning a good profit. They may even think they can get the berserk back.’

‘The berserk is a mercenary and also not a Dane,’ said Vali. ‘They won’t bother about him.’

‘So what are we going to do?’

‘Make use of what we have.’

‘Two fine swords, one byrnie, a sling and a good set of teeth on your fellow here,’ said Bragi.

‘You’re missing the clothes,’ said Vali, ‘and this.’ He held up a stubby black stick he had taken from the purse at Signiuti’s belt. ‘This is as good a piece of eye dark as I’ve ever seen.’

‘What good will that do?’

‘Well, if we’re going to look like Rygir jarls, then I suppose we had better act like them. I’m going to ask for compensation for the raid.’ He held out the stick. ‘If you would be so good, Bragi, as to try to make me look as if I’m trying to please the vanities of a court, not like I’ve come to burn the place to the ground. Best not try it as we go across. I don’t trust your hand on land; on water I would fear for my eyes. And when we get there treat me like a prince — a bit more bowing and scraping.’

‘Let’s hope we can make them understand us.’

‘I speak their language,’ said Vali. ‘Not all my talk at Ma Disa’s house was wasteful.’

Bragi shrugged and took the stick.

As Bragi applied the kohl Vali spoke to Feileg. ‘And you just tell them you’re our priest. It had occurred to me to sell you, but I should think the byrnie will be enough to buy her freedom — if she’s there.’

‘If the girl is there, I will take her,’ said the wolfman.

‘You might find it easier to pay,’ said Vali. ‘Haithabyr is a town of a thousand people, if what I hear is true. Even you can’t fight that many, wolfman, though one day I will. We will come here and burn their lands from shore to shore for what they have done.’

Feileg just looked at him blankly.

The problem of turning up in a fishing boat when pretending to be an ambassador had occurred to Vali, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he decided not to let it worry him.

The wind was not entirely favourable and the men had to row their way across, which Vali thought no bad thing. It was good to get there at the oar, clearly vigorous, clearly in charge of his destiny.

As it turned out, the bjorkey was no problem. It was no more than two houses and a collection of barrels with a few people sitting around them. A couple of the men on the shore raised their arms in salute as the boat passed and Vali returned their greeting.

‘That went smoothly,’ said Vali.

‘So far,’ said Bragi.

The wolfman looked around him. Like Vali, he had never seen a place like this — small flat fields of green oats turning to gold where the dark clouds broke and the sun poured through. They were on a long narrow inlet which was much calmer than the open ocean, and for the first time since they had set off Vali saw the colour come back to Feileg’s cheeks.

As they moved up the river, there were small camps. Children ran down to the shore, trying to attract their attention, shouting out words, one in four of which Vali recognised. That word was ‘stew’, and if he had been under any misapprehension as to what they were talking about, their mothers stood by fires, rattling earthenware pots and making eating gestures.

‘What hospitality!’ said Vali.

‘Not quite,’ said Bragi.

‘They’re offering us food.’

‘Yes, and they won’t be handing it over until we’ve paid for it. In coin.’

Vali laughed. ‘It’s a poor man indeed who takes payment for food from a traveller.’

‘Well you’ll find Haithabyr full of poor men then,’ said Bragi, ‘though you wouldn’t know it by the silks they wear.’

Vali concentrated on his rowing after that. To him, it was demeaning to ask guests to pay, no matter how many there were. Likewise, it was shameful for a guest who had made great claims on his host’s hospitality to leave without offering a gift. The idea of paying for what you received had never even occurred to him until that moment, and it confirmed his view that Danes must be entirely lacking in honour. And he was going into a nest of them.

It was two hours before he saw Haithabyr. They rounded a bend in the inlet and there it was, crammed by the waterfront. He had never seen so many houses. They seemed to fill the gentle slope that led up from the river. There must have been a hundred altogether, not counting stables and wells, even a large church — as he now knew it to be — like he’d seen on the raid, marked by a cross on the roof.

It was as if the buildings were not properly anchored and had slid down to the harbour, pushing in on each other like cattle at a feed trough, shouldering each other aside in an attempt to get to — what? There were eight ships — two small snekkes, a fearsome drakkar and five merchant knarrs — moored a few yards off the wooden jetties. The narrow space between the houses and the water was devoted to boat repairs, large and small. Here was a longship taking a patch to the bottom of its hull; there were fishing boats stripped to almost nothing. The boats reminded Vali of the carcasses of beasts, half eaten by wild animals, their ribs showing.

Something strange was happening. Two of the knarrs were full of rocks and men were casting them overboard into the harbour. Vali realised that this must be some sort of defence they were building, a screening wall against sea attack. The idea was so simple and so brilliant that Vali wondered why his people or the Rygir had never thought of it.

People were on the waterfront, a knot of fifty or sixty cramming forwards shouting to them, some waving weapons, which made Vali feel he wanted to reach for his sword. Others brandished bizarre items: rich cloths, blocks of iron, necklaces and arm rings, clothes even.

‘Do they mean us harm?’ said Vali, eyeing one particularly large man waving a spear.

‘Only to our pockets,’ said Bragi. ‘They’re trying to trade with us.’

He heard calls again in uncertain languages, gibberish, some words in a weird Danish slang, followed by, ‘Where you from? My friends, where you from?’

‘We are Rygir!’ shouted Bragi, which to all intents and purposes they were.

The gibberish ceased and everything became intelligible. ‘See these silks, carried for three years from Serkland, glass from there too.’ ‘If you have furs I will buy them.’ ‘Best price, best price. Ale and mead for the weary traveller!’ ‘Hello, mates. Let’s do business!’ ‘My father was Rygir, only the best deals for them!’

Men were virtually fighting each other to get to the front of the wooden jetty, some almost falling into the water. Vali realised why the houses were crammed so tight. They too were trying to be as near as they could to the source of trade — the inlet.

Now some of the traders were climbing into boats to row out, so Vali could see he needed to act quickly. Were they traders, though? One was very bizarrely dressed, with a wolf’s mask on his face, not like Feileg’s pelt but a stiff thing made of wicker and fur.

The prince stood up in his boat and shouted to the crowd,‘I am Vali, son of Authun the Pitiless, king of the sword-Horda, ward of Forkbeard, king of the Rygir. I am here to speak to your king, Hemming the Great, son of Godfred.’

‘Greetings to the son of the White Wolf!’ shouted the man with the mask on.

Three boats came towards them, two or three men in each. Vali realised he had little choice but to let them come alongside. When they did, he almost did reach for his sword. Not pausing for a breath, three men expertly stepped into his boat — one with iron ingots, another with a roll of carved daggers and the third in the wolf mask, a small fat man in many-coloured silks. Vali could see as he climbed aboard that his hair was black and as slick as a seal’s back.

‘Best iron in the world,’ said the man with the ingots. ‘We can deliver as much as you like to your homeland. Think of the swords your smiths could forge with this.’

Vali looked at the man. He actually did find his words persuasive and began thinking about how, when he was king, he would love to equip his bodyguards with fine weapons they could use on these Danes.

‘This dagger was used to kill a dragon in the lands of the east. It will pierce even the strongest byrnie,’ said the man with the knives.

‘And what are you selling?’ said Bragi to the man in the mask. Bragi had tried to drain the belligerence from his voice, which made him sound more threatening than if he’d just shouted.

The wolf-masked man let out a deep chuckle. ‘Everything!’ he said.

Feileg, who had watched all this with a kind of horror in his eyes, suddenly jumped up and roared at the man in the mask.

‘No!’ said Vali, gesturing for him to sit down, but the ingot seller and the dagger man had both instinctively leaped for their boats. The knife merchant managed to roll into his, but the other, in his panic to get away, missed his step and fell into the water, drawing a huge laugh from the crowd. Only the man in the mask remained. He seemed entirely unperturbed by Feileg’s display and the sudden exit of his two friends.

‘Sit down,’ said Bragi, to Feileg.

The wolfman ignored him and stood glowering down at the remaining merchant. Bragi put his weight suddenly to the side of the boat, wobbling it and forcing Feileg to grab for the rail.

‘I said sit down,’ said Bragi.

The wolfman did as he was told.

‘Berserks are such formidable bodyguards, are they not, prince? And yet never quite your men for a pleasant hello. I was brought up among them, if you can believe it. We call them the Vucari, men who live as wolves. First time in the big town for the boy, I bet.’

‘Who are you?’ said Vali.

‘I am your smoother of the way in Haithabyr, your scythe in a forest of doubt, your beacon in darkness, your-’

‘He asked who you were,’ said Bragi. ‘Unmask yourself and face us as man to man.’

The man took off his mask.

‘Veles Libor,’ he said, ‘friend to the prince and to all who travel with him.’

‘Veles!’ said Bragi. ‘Veles, is it you? What are you doing here?’

‘Living here,’ said Veles, ‘at the invitation of the late King Godfred, may whatever gods you find appropriate guard him in the afterlife, and the good King Hemming, may the same gods… Well, you catch my drift.’

‘You have abandoned your people?’ said Vali.

‘The good King Godfred abandoned them for me when he was so considerate as to burn down my home town of Reric. His generosity did not stop there though. He was kind enough to offer, nay insist, that we merchants transfer our business here. The chance to come to such a warm and pleasant land was far more welcome than the alternative, so here I am.’

‘What was the alternative?’ said Vali.

‘An inventive, original and rare death,’ said Veles. ‘It was the easiest bargain I have ever struck.’

‘So you’re a thrall?’ said Vali.

‘But a comfortable one. If you’re going to be a slave, why not be the king’s slave? And besides, the price of my efficiency is a certain level of freedom.’

For the first time since he had returned to Eikund with the wolfman, Vali laughed. ‘It’s so good to see you,’ he said.

‘And you. You have grown mighty, my prince. You must have killed many men by now.’ Vali noticed he was looking strangely at the wolfman. Veles missed nothing, least of all something as obvious as the wolfman’s resemblance to the prince. It didn’t stop the merchant speaking. ‘I have arranged everything for your stay here. You are guests at my house. Whatever you want to buy here, whatever you want to sell, I will be pleased to do it for you. It would be my honour to conduct your dealings for you and lend you my expertise.’

‘We are a delegation.’

‘From Forkbeard. Some business about Haarik’s raid, no doubt.’

‘How did you know about that? No one could have travelled here more quickly than us,’ said Vali.

‘You are a seer?’ said Bragi.

‘Hardly,’ said Veles. ‘I simply asked them when they passed through.’

‘Which way?’ said Vali.

Veles looked hard at Vali.

‘Come on, man. It’s an easy enough question to answer. Were they on their way or coming back from the raid?’

‘On their way,’ said Veles. ‘They have something you value? A captive?’

‘Magician!’ said Feileg in a low growl.

‘My skills are baser, I assure you,’ said Veles. ‘It is my business to recognise want when I see it. There has been a raid on Rogaland; the esteemed prince is dispatched to retrieve something that can be carried in such a small boat. Very wise way to travel. You need five drakkars or none in these waters nowadays. Believe me, the pirates have nearly broken me in two. I bleed coin to them. Bleed it!’ He seemed on the verge of losing his temper but then caught himself. ‘So it is a single captive. I can’t think of anything else that needs diplomacy to retrieve. If it was gold I think you would come with war-paint on your eyes, not these fine lines fit to please a lady.’ He gestured at the kohl that Bragi and Vali had applied to each other.

‘Where is the girl?’ said Feileg.

Veles smiled broadly.

‘I do not have her here, but if she is to be found, then I can find her,’ said Veles. ‘A girl. A princess no doubt. Has little Ragna been taken? I will help find her and expect no payment; simply your thanks and whatever gift your generous people choose to bestow on me will be enough. ’

‘It is not Ragna, though the captive is no less dear to the king. No gift would suffice to thank you for her return,’ said Vali.

‘Well, let’s talk about the exact sums later,’ said Veles. ‘I’m joking of course. But, please, come to my house, where you will be my guests. And you must see King Hemming. We should start by asking for compensation for the raid and the abduction of the girl. I’m sure he couldn’t have sanctioned this, prince. He wouldn’t want to risk your father’s wrath. I will handle everything — the amount, whichever way it is paid, the form, the delivery. The details of mere trade are beneath princes, or at least that’s what the Franks maintain, and their empire seems to thrive on it. You need only return to Rogaland and wait for the happy outcome.’

Vali felt his heart leap. If anyone could locate Adisla, he thought, Veles could.